Shattered Mirror
by Yma
Summary: A story of one night in the Brotherhood house, told from each of their perspectives. Set after The Toad, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. Chapter 5: Freddy. DONE!
1. Shard 1: Lance

Shattered Mirror By Yma

DISCLAIMER: This is like a mirror in an old antique shop. I can look at myself in the reflection free of cost, but I do not own the actual mirror myself.

THANKS TO: Scribbler, who bata read and checked this for me, and thus doing improved it beyond words. I owe ya, Scribbs! 

WARNING! This story is rated R. It contains:

* A lot of swearing

* Small references to sexual situations.

* Suggestions of some Taboo activities

* Adult concepts.

INFO: This story is told through first person, using a very strong 'voice.' The grammar and spelling have altered accordingly to accommodate these 'voices.'

All reviews shall be accepted, nursed and cherished like surrogate children.

And now... onwards!

Shard 1: Lance

By the time I get back it's ten. Work finishes at nine, but there's always some fucking idiot who comes at eight fifty, demanding to be served. By the time I've done that, cleaned up, and fought my way though the traffic, it's around ten. My head's hurting so much it's as if someone's pushing against the inside of my skull.

It's like a physical pressure, you know. When I lose my temper, earthquakes happen, and the pressure breaks out. So at work I hold it all in. No matter how much some fucker's messing me around, I hold in the anger, hold in the pressure. By the end of the day my head's wrecked. Still, I suppose it's better than turning the shop into a pile of rubble. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love to see the Kwik-E-Mart as a smoking heap of stone and ruins, 

but I can't. Gotta work. Gotta get money.

My life sucks, sometimes. But it's been worse. At least I've got some control over stuff now; I'm living with guys who depend on me, rather than the other way around, like it was in care.

I hate being dependent on anyone.

But I suppose that's what's happened anyway.

So I get in, see the usual scene - Freddy sitting on the couch watching TV. 

He looks up at me as I enter, grins, and then turns back to the show. I don't notice what he's watching. It doesn't matter. Freddy will watch almost any crap. Instead, I ask where everyone is.

"Wanda's gone to bed, Pietro left over an hour ago, and Todd ain't been back since he went out at lunch."

"So it's just us again, big guy," I say, because this situation's become familiar. The Brotherhood members seem to come and go, but Freddy remains stationary - the unmovable Blob.

"Any food in? I'm starving."

"Yup. You want me to fix you something?"

Once again, that's Freddy all over. Only two things move him - food and violence. When you get down to it, he's not such a bad guy.

"Thanks," I say, and watch as he gets off to make me some grub.

I try to watch the crap on TV. I switch the channels a few times, but there's nothing on. Hell, I don't think I could concentrate on TV at the moment anyway. Too tired, my head hurts too much, and I've got other things bugging me.

Freddy says he'll make me something simple, cheese on toast and baked beans. 

He's actually a real good cook, can do some awesome stuff with food, but I haven't been paid yet, so money's a little thin on the ground. Truth be told, I'm surprised we've got anything by this time, but somehow Freddy manages to make the cash and grub last. Somehow.

Anyway, I'm not into watching TV at the moment, so I tell Freddy I'm going upstairs, ask him to bring it up to me. Going up the rotten staircase, I'm careful to avoid the creakier floor boards, trying to be quiet. I don't wanna wake up Wanda, since she's not a girl you piss off lightly.

Speaking of which...

When I get into my room I go straight towards the piece of splintering wood that's my wardrobe and grab the cell phone hidden in one of the draws. 

It ain't the best model or nothing - hell, it's an old piece of junk - but it works. I pay the tariff out of my own wage, and yeah, I could use the landline, woulda been cheaper, but I don't want anyone else to know about this.

See, it's Todd who sorts out the bills in this place, and if he sees who I'm phoning it'll be all over the Brotherhood house in a second. Oh yeah, I earn the money to pay the bills, but I don't sort them out. I'm too busy working most of the time, Quickie can never be assed, Wanda doesn't have a clue, and 

Freddy's just to damn stupid.

So that leaves Todd.

Not that he does pay the bills, mind you. Not all of them, at least. The amount of money still in our savings is proof of that. Somehow the slime ball fiddles the figures, or does something shady to fool the IRS. I don't ask what, I don't want to know, but I'm guessing Toad's had experience with this kind of thing before. He knows all the loop holes, so he uses them. Fuck, the little shit has gotta be useful for something, after all.

Not that I'm that grateful - it's only a temporary thing after all. It don't matter how much Toad wheels and deals, he's going to be found out one day, and that's the day the cops will come knocking on our door.

That's the last thing any of us want.

So Todd 'Parasite' Tolensky can fool the government all he wants for now, but I know I'm going to have to find a way to get more dough in to pay the bills properly, or we'll all be fucked.

Such is the life of the Leader of the Brotherhood.

But that's not what worries me now, though fuck knows it should. No, despite all this shit I'm worried about one small, Illinois girl.

Kitty Pryde.

It's her I phone on the cell. I listen to the mansion's phone ring. 

At about the third tone I get the wining voice of one Kurt Wagner, a.k.a. the dumbest, freakiest bastard ever to walk the planet.

"Tag! This is the Xavier Institute, how can I help you?"

God, will you listen to that voice? 'Theeeezzzz eeeez zeee ehxzavieerrrr 

eeensteeetueeeet!' Sounds like he's been castrated. What a gimp.

"Hello," I say, making my voice just a little deeper, "this is Mr Pryde, can 

I talk to my daughter, please?"

"Sure. Kitty! It's your father!"

There's a pause. I hear Kitty thank Kurt, and a few hollow clicking sounds as the phone exchanges hands.

"Hi Dad!" Kitty says at last. "What are you calling me for? I thought you were in Japan?"

"Hey, Pretty-Kitty, it's me. Sorry, but I had to say I was your dad or -"

"Lance! You jerk!"

"Hey, Kitty -"

"I don't want to hear it! I'm sick of you calling me! I already told you, it's over!"

"But you won't even give me a chance to -"

"I gave you every chance!" Her voice is wobbly over the phone line, close to 

tears. "But you just wouldn't change. I tried to see the best in you, but there isn't a best. You're... you're only a thug; just like the rest of the Brotherhood!'

"That ain't fair! We're just doing our best to survive. At least we're not smug-ass geeks like the rest of *your* team!"

"Oh, go jerk yourself off, Lance. I don't care."

"Wait! Kitty, no, I'm sorry, I -"

"It's too late for sorry, Lance."

"Wait, Kitty, I can explain -"

Suddenly the line goes dead; someone disconnected the phone, probably that 

Wagner sneak. He can go fuck himself with his own tail.

Thinking this, I throw the phone across the room. Dumb move. It ain't shatter resistant and it smashes as it hits the wall. Fuck, now I have no 

cell.

Then again, that's my temper for you. I do the best I can to control it but sometimes it just spills out, destroying everything.

It's not fair. It's not my fault we chose different teams; not my fault we're not as loaded as the X-men. I don't understand how she can stay with them, bunch of stiff necked bastards that they are.

There are a lot of things I don't understand.

Like why I still care about her when she's dumped me.

Like why I keep wanting to call her, even though it could never work.

Like why everyone here looks at me, like I'm the strong guy or something.

Like why they look at me like I'm a leader.

Fuck, I'm still just a kid. I try to take care of them all, try to keep food and money up, but I can't do it alone, you know? I'm not that good.

Anyway, isn't Pietro supposed to be the head honcho now? Fat lot of good he does. Yeah, he might be the leader of the 'Brotherhood', the leader of 

Magneto's Acolytes-in-training, but I'm the leader of a bunch of kids who don't know how to fend for themselves.

I'm supposed to be the one in control, when I can't even hold onto my temper.

There's a knock on my door. It's Freddy with the food. If he heard anything then he doesn't mention it, just passes me my dinner, pats me on the shoulder, and leaves.

I eat what I can of the food, but it's not all that much. I'm not hungry anymore. It's like the empty pit in my stomach has moved over into my heart.

Lance Alvers, the guy who looks after everyone, moping over one dumb valley girl.

How the guys back at the foster homes would laugh at me now.

As soon as I finish, I get undressed and slip into bed, leaving what food is left on the plate to moulder. I'll take it downstairs later, or maybe I'll just leave it. It'll feed the bugs that Toad eats, so I guess it all comes full circle.

I lie in bed, listening to the distant chatter of Freddy's TV. I think I hear something else; the sound of a bedroom door opening, creaking floorboards, and then a door closes again. Probably Wanda. Wonder what she's up to?

I'm just dropping off when something else wakes me, someone coming in... it's Todd. I can tell because of the slapping sound of his feet. He seems to be staggering. He comes upstairs, and a few minutes later I hear a retching sound in the bathroom, like he's throwing up, then he goes back downstairs for a few minutes.

It isn't hard to guess what he's been up to. Drinking. It's happened before; 

I've heard him throwing up several times at night. Never would have guessed he'd be the drinking type, but then, what else has he got to escape with? 

Poor little slug's got it hard, that's for sure.

Wish I knew where he got the liquor from. I'm guessing he steals it. He'd better be stealing it, 'cos if he's using the money *I* earned, then I'll pound him into the ground.

He comes back upstairs again, still staggering. He doesn't go to his room, though. Instead he just stops in the hallway. Probably listening to Wanda's door again, I think. Little creep has a real fixation over her. So far it's pretty harmless, but it could turn into something nastier, and if it does... well, I don't know. I doubt he could beat Wanda in any fair fight, though. Or Pietro. And certainly not her dad. If he gave a shit, that is.

Eventually, he moves on; into his own room I guess, and things go quiet again.

I wake up a little later - don't know how long, there's no clock in here except my watch and I can't see the dials on it without light. Freddy's turned the volume up on the TV, which must be what's woken me. I stumble out of bed, meaning to go and tell him to turn it the fuck down.

When I open my door to the empty hallway I notice something. Pietro's bedroom door is open. That never happens; he always locks his door, always. And only two people have the key, him and his sister... OK, and Mystique who has the master key, but she ain't likely to be calling round here anytime soon.

So, Pie-Pie snuck out and left the door open.

Wonder what he's up to? Probably scheming with his daddy dearest, the little shit. I hated Pietro the first day I met him. Now I loathe him, but he's our only ticket out of this hellhole, our only real hope, and if we pound him then Maggie and his Cajun crony will be banging on our door. So we gotta go with him. But I swear, if he double-crosses us again then all the speed in the world won't save him.

I stay in the hallway for a few seconds, wondering what to do next. If Pietro's talking to his dad on the phone then Freddy and Todd must be in on it, too, because Freddy's down there now, and Todd pays the bills, like I said.

Maybe he left earlier, in which case Todd wouldn't know and Freddy might not have noticed him leave. Or maybe something else it going on.

Maybe I just don't give a fuck.

I'm tired, angry, and hurting. I'm sick of having to second guess everyone, 

having to be the leader, having to be the thinker, not the doer. Having to be the strong one, the one they all look to in one way or another.

So I got back to bed, close my eyes, and let the drone of the over-loud TV send me to sleep. There's no use in stressing about what Pietro's up to. 

I've got enough things to worry about.


	2. Shard 2: Todd

Shard 2: Todd

It's almost midnight before I manage to stagger home, yo. Which is pretty late, even for me, but, you know, I ain't exactly in the best shape. Frickin' Cyclops.

Bastard caught me jus' as I was pickin' a quality crop, yo. It was a jock, too, a drunk jock just outta a club. Couldn't tell his ass from his elbow, an' I nearly had his wallet, but Scott 'stick-up-his-butt' Summers came along and spoiled all my fun.

I put up a fight, of course. Nearly whupped him right hard, yeah. I was all karate moves an' slick wit, but he had those fuckin' eyeblasts, right. Hit me on the leg. Hurt like hell, yo, so I tried to hightail it outta there, but I weren't fast enough wit' only one leg workin' properly. So Cyclops grabs me an' makes me empty out my pockets. Lost all the stuff I got. Bastard.

An' that ain't the first time, either. The X-geeks is always lookin' for me. Know how good I am, yo. Between them an' the cops, I hardly ever come home wit' full pockets no more.

Anyhow, after Summers is finished givin' me the once over, I scramble outta there, an' back here.

Straight off, I see that Lance is back, 'cos his jeep's outside, an' I ain't surprised to find Freddy watchin' the box alone. Lance goes to bed pretty soon after comin' home, an' snuggle-lumps always goes to bed at nine. She likes to go to bed early, yo, so she can get up wit' the birds to catch the worm. That jus' leaves Pietro.

So, soon as I get in I'm askin' Freddy about that, an' he says that Pietro fucked off ages ago. 'Bout nine, he says. Good ol' Pie-Pie probably went to get himself jazzed up. He sucks up coffee like... yo' know... like a slug. Yeah, a slug. Which is cool by me, 'cos he makes a bigger stink than I do, you know what I'm sayin'?

Anyhow, I'm flippin' whacked; out of it, man. I just wanna crawl into bed, but I got business to attend to. Yeah, business.

So, Freddy's askin' me what happened to my foot, why I'm limping an' shit. I tell him the truth, 'cos I trust him, an' he listens real good. Then I ask him if we got any bandages or sumpin'.

Well, Freddy digs into the First Aid kit we got a few months back, grabs some things, helps me set my foot right, bandagin' it an' stuff. It's only a sprain, but it hurts like fuck. That's the thing with fightin' the X-men; we ain't got no fancy-assed medical lab. We jus' got a First Aid kit, each other, an' some rags to bite down on if the pain gets too much, yo. It ain't pretty.

Freddy asks me if I want anythin' to eat, an' I say yeah, but I gotta do my usual thing. Gotta sort things out.

Freddy understands what's goin' on. He's the only one I can talk to now, 

'cos we got this big assed secret goin' on.

Cool, yo, major secret coolness.

Anyway, I jump up the stairs, tryin not to make too much noise, an' get straight into the bathroom. We got runnin' water, doncha know? Yeah, hot an' cold.

I do it in the sink, and it's major gross, even for me. I just stick my fingers as far back down my throat as I can get and it all comes out.

Real simple, real smooth.

But still gross, an' it's a good thing I missed lunch, yo, 'cos this way it's mostly bile.

Bile and a few credit cards.

Bet yo' didn't see that comin' did ya?

Bet yo' didn't see Toddy throwin' up credit cards?

Bet yo' wonderin' how I did it, wonderin' if my stomach's made o' gold or sumpin?

I wish.

Heh, maybe I caught the Gold Bug!

Get it, gold bug, wantin' money and I eat bugs an' -

Yeah. Gold Bug.

Anyway, it's real simple, an' no, I don't just eat 'em. I could ruin them, an besides, my throat's big, but not that big, yo.

Nah, I got a better way.

Yo' ever wonder where I put my big tongue? Ever consider where my slime comes from? Well, just at the back of my throat, on either side of my neck, I got these, like, sack things, this weird space where my tongue stays when it's not in use. So, what I do is this; I take the cards, right, an' I put them on my tongue, then I just, like, roll my tongue in, so they end up in the back o' my mouth.

Cool, yeah?

That way, it don't matter if the X-Men or the cops get me, don't matter if they strip me naked, yo, 'cos I always got the big stuff, the credit cards, riding in the back of my mouth where it's safe.

So I clean off the cards in the basin. Then I go back down an' pass them over to Freddy, who puts them in the secret hidin' place, at the back of one of the cupboards, behind some food cans.

Tomorrow mornin' soon as I wake up an' see Cuddle-bumps, I'll take 'em and cash them in, get us some more dough in the bank, yo. I use 'em to pay the bills too, yo, all legal like.

I don't have much of a problem, neither. On a good night I can get more cash than Lance earns in a month! 'Course, sometimes the card's dud by the time I use it, or it's already at the limit, but, y'know, sometimes it works out. An' works out well, too.

S'funny. I mean, look at me; I'm like the main earner now. Heh, Toddy's bringing home the bread again, kids.

Feels good, I gotta say.

But I can't tell 'em. No one but me an' Freddy know. See, Lance has this control thing; he needs to feel needed or sumpin'. Freddy reckons that if he found out about this then he'd feel pretty bad - useless, even. I mean, he only jus' got over that Kitty bitch, yo. He don't need no more on his plate, don't need to know about this. That wouldn't be no good, yo, 'cos we need him. He keeps us together, y'know; keeps things goin.' Wit' a bit of help, of course.

He's the one that keeps Pietro in check, too, an' the last thing I want is Pie-Pie runnin' loose, if you catch my drift. Yeah, I do as he says, we all do, but everyone round here knows that, if thing's get too outta hand, Lance is the one to reign Pietro in, the one we all look up to. But he needs all his confidence for that, see, and if he knew he wasn't the one earning the cash he'd go ape-shit, y'can bet.

Any road, after Freddy's put away the cards, he comes back wit' some grub, which I gulp up an' refill my stomach. Then I say goodnight an' hop upstairs again, to bed, 'cos like I said before, I'm totally whacked.

'Course, I don't head straight to my room. Gotta check on Snuggle-Bunny first.

I slip across to her bedroom door an' put my ear against it. Then it's a matter of drownin' things out - selective hearin' right? I lean real close to the door, try to ignore all the background shit, like the sound of the TV an' cars outside. I even ignore the sounds o'the cockroaches crawlin' around under the floorboards.

I'm good, ain't I? That pointy eared plush-rat can go eat his heart out. 

Toddy's got *excellent* hearin.'

Eventually all I can hear is my own breathin', an' my heartbeat. It's faster than usual. But I don't hear her.

I usually hear her when she's sleepin', she makes these noises, see. I guess that mojo Mastermind put on her, it didn't get rid o' all her memories, just hid them away, or something, 'cos they come back to her when she sleeps.

I've heard her. She mutters and tosses and turns. I love how the bed sheets sound against her body. Maybe I'll get to hear it up close, someday.

Sometimes she even moans, yo. Once she screamed. I remember that night, 'cos 

I heard her and bashed her door open wit' my feet, super strong leg muscles an' all that. But she jus' screamed at me, told me to piss off.

It don't matter what I do, she always tells me to leave.

As it is, I just like listenin' to her sleep. When I'm not too desperate for sleep myself, that is. I could stay outside her door all night, jus' listenin' to her, wishin' I could go in an' take away all those nightmares. 

Corny huh? But I guess it's true.

S'funny; she's so powerful, but so weak. I love that power, I guess, but I also like the weakness. I kinda want to have both, y'know? I jus' wanna feel her lips on mine again...

But it ain't gonna happen. Not soon, anyways; but I'm gonna keep tryin', cos thing's are gonna get better soon. They gotta, an' there ain't no point in thinkin' otherwise.

But tonight, like the last three nights before this, I don't hear her in her room. But I know where she is.

I head over to Pietro's room, which is also closed and locked, and I listen.

I hear her, hear her soft breathin.' She's been sleepin' in Pietro's room for the last three nights, yo.

His room's locked, a'course. Both his and Wanda's room got locks on, an' they both have keys to each other's rooms. Cosy little deal, eh?

Yeah, I'm onto 'em, or I'm onto him.

See, I reckon Bucket Head fucked up my baby's brain too much, I reckon  somethin's going on that stinks worse than me.

I reckon Pietro's been playing the game that all the family can join in on, if yo' take my meanin'.

Why else she go to his room every night? It ain't to argue, that's for sure.

For a moment I wanna just barge on in an' shout at her, ask her why she's doin' this, tell her the truth.

I nearly do, though, but I can't. If I did she'd never forgive me, never like me again. She'd leave, an' I couldn't live with that.

So I slip back into my own bed an' try to get some shuteye.

Soon as I start to drift off, though, I hear someone come in. Gotta be Pietro, an' he comes straight up, into his own room.

I strain my ears, tryin' to catch everythin', but if they talk then I don't here it. Perhaps they're gettin' straight down to business.

No, Toddy, don't think that, there might be a better explanation, yo.

Yeah, like what? Their dad has fucked them both over royally, so now they're fuckin' each other.

After that I can't get to sleep at all, head's to busy thinkin', can't calm down. I wonder what they're doin' in there, wonder how they manage to stay so quiet. Is he touchin' her? Kissin' her? Makin' her moan in a different way? I wonder what it must be like to do that. Wonder what her skin feels like, wonder is she smiling at him now? Fuck, why she goin' to him?

I keep listenin', but I know I shouldn't. I don't understand why I'm doin' this. Part of me wants to crawl under the covers, shut up my ears, but I can't. It's like a... a morbid curiosity. I just gotta keep listenin', gotta see if I can hear sumpin'.

Despite all this, I'm almost asleep when I hear movement. Footsteps, quick, a bit of cloth movin', and a door openin'. It's Pietro, he's left his room, I can tell 'cos of his footsteps, light an' quick. He goes downstairs, I think, an' the TV gets turned up. Perhaps he's tryin' to wake Freddy up, or maybe he jus' wanna watch the box for a bit. I don't give a fuck. He's done this for the last few nights, fucked her an' left her. I even saw him once, peekin' though a hole in the wall. He left his room wearin' only his underpants, an' he was carryin' his bed-sheets. Probably had nasty stain's on them, if yo' get my drift.

So, that's the story. He's abandoned her, gets her here, fucks her, screws her up, an' then leaves her.

It makes me so fuckin' angry!

Part o' me just wants to go into his room, grab Wanda, an' tell her the truth. Tell her she don't need him, she's got me. Tell her everythin.' But I can't, 'cos at the end of the day she's chosen him.

She chose her own brother over me.

Says a lot for my gene-pool prospects, don't it?

Anyhow, things will work out. They always do, it all comes around, all balances out. Lance'll sort it out, I'm sure. Yeah, Lance'll know what to do.

Meantime, I'm gonna lie low, get some sleep, wait for things to play out. Gonna show Wanda I can wait, and I can, yo.

But Pietro better watch out, 'cos if I'm right... if he is... y'know... if he hurts her, I'll show him who's got the stronger legs and I'll use every muscle I got to pound his fucking face in. I swear it.


	3. Shard 3: Wanda

Notes: 

DISCLAIMER: A repeat of what was said at the beginning. This world and it's characters are not mine, in this chapter, the previous, or any others, they are merely borrowed for enjoyment.

THANKS TO: Scribbler, to Beta read and checked this for me.

REVIEWERS: 

Chaotic Boredom: Thanks for reading! Glad to see you're getting so into the characters.

DeLiz: Yay, a nice long review! Me likes! Do it again for the other chapters, eh? (;  Is Pietro evil? Well, you'll just have to read and find out…

Laureate: Thanks for the praise! I'm glad to see you're so glued, and that Toddy has a supporter. Poor little slime, he needs all the friends he can get…

Mrs. Jean Grey-Summers: Thanks for your readership! I hope I haven't put you off… coincidentally, if you like my writing, and like Jean Grey, try out Being Normal. It features her as the main character and (if you'll believe some people) is my best work thus far. But that's enough shameless advertising…

Harry_Wiggle: Glad to see you around, Harry, especially with the Nutbord down. It makes me sad that I can't talk to the guys there… ): Do I plan out my stories? Yes and no… it depends. I didn't plan this one, though I thought about it a lot. I did plan out Being Normal, but that was a lot more complex… Keep on reviewing!

Rilo: Thanks for your review! 

Ricter: Thanks to you too! I like the word twincest, BTW, it kinda… works. Hummm… must remember that one…

FINAL NOTES: Sorry about some of the layout problems, nothing I could do. I hope they didn't interfere with your enjoyment too much. 

PLEASE don't stop reviewing!

Now, on with the story!

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Shard 3: Wanda

I'm a creature of habit, not half as strong as some people think.

I always go to bed at the same time - nine p.m. sharp. Earlier than any of the boys. Why? I don't know, it's habit I guess, habit from... from... I don't know where.

Perhaps it's from my father. Yes... yes I feel sure... he was strict about bedtimes. Nine o'clock was when I went to bed, and then he'd read me and my brother a story, then sleep.

Yes. That's how it was.

Yet I'm surprised I didn't rebel. I'm a young woman, after all, in control of my own life, powerful, independent. So why do I still do as my father told me, even all those years ago?

Because I love him.

It's funny, why was I so angry with him before? He was such a good father, right? How could he be anything else? He's given me so many good memories.

It's getting on towards winter, it's already becoming dark outside.

That's another reason why I like early nights. I hate the dark. Sounds odd, doesn't it? A girl of my age, afraid of the dark. But I am, and again I can't say why. Probably another childhood thing, dreaming of monsters in the night, creatures waiting with teeth and claws, fangs and needles.

Needles?

I think the strangest things, sometimes.

So, after spending a day reading, watching bad TV, and wandering around stores with no money to spend, I head up the creaky, rotting stairs to my stark bedroom.

There's another odd thing, it always scares me how empty it is. Not physically empty but... I don't know... spiritually empty, I guess.

Just a few hours after I joined the Brotherhood, after I took up living here, Gambit came around with a load of stuff. My stuff. He even helped move it up to my room. And there they all are, my favourite clothes, toys, and bedspreads - even posters. I should love them, and I remember them all, but I don't...

Take the duvet coverlet. It's black, velvety black with delicate, curling ivy patterns in green and gold thread round the edges. It's undoubtedly beautiful, probably expensive too. I have a memory of my father giving it to me for my thirteenth birthday; I remember the look on his face, the love of love, as I unwrapped it from the golden-foil paper. I remember it all so clearly...

But I don't *feel* anything. When I slip beneath it, I don't feel safe, or happy, or secure. It doesn't feel like *my* bed, it feels... new... alien.

That's how everything here feels to me. Like I'm living someone else's life, a differentm Wanda.

And there are gaps too. For example, I remember what I got on my thirteenth birthday, but for the life of me I can't say what Pietro received.

Then there are the books.

I like reading, I really do, and I've got a big book collection, all my favourites, mostly from my dad, or from Pietro.

Lying in bed now, sleep far from my mind, and the light outside beginning to fail, I turn to those tomes.

Switching on the light on my nightstand, I pick up the book I've been re-reading.

Or I think I'm re-reading it, anyway.

It's Frankenstein, and reading it is like experiencing deja vu in reverse.

I remember reading it before, I know it's one of my favourite books, but it feels like a book I've never read. Some passages are completely new to me, I don't know what's happening next, and nothing is familiar in it. Not really familiar, just remembered.

Eventually I put the book down and give up. It's no good.

I lie back down amidst the covers and attempt to get to sleep again, but I know it'll be of little use.

I hear a vehicle pull up outside, and the front door opening and closing. Lance is back.

I don't know what to make of Lance. I like him, I guess; he's down to earth and stuff. But he's so... distant. Like he's afraid to say the wrong thing around me. Like I'm a dangerous.

Freddy acts the same, though he hides it better, I think. He's still pretty nice, making me cups of cocoa and stuff, but he watches me with this... this fear in his eyes. It's almost hostility, but not quite. He's the only one that knows about my sleeping habits, I think he's onto what's been going on recently, but he keeps his mouth shut. Too scared to speak, I suppose.

Of course, it might be the way I act. I am a bit aggressive sometimes, I'll admit, I like to show myself as strong, I hate looking weak. But I am, you know, deep down, I feel weaker than anything...

Oh God, I feel like such a... a freak for even thinking that. You know, the stereotypical modern girl, strong on the outside but pathetic in the middle, waiting for some fairy-tale hero to save her? So much for 20th century woman, eh?

But it's not like that, because the problem doesn't come from outside, doesn't come from any ogre or dragon. I don't know where it comes from. It comes from nothing, from everything... it's like nothing's quite right.

It's like I'm Alice in Wonderland.

Yes, that's it, Alice in Wonderland, I loved that book, and I still do. It's odd that I don't have it in my collection, because it's one of the few books that *does* provoke an emotional reaction in me. I remember reading it with Pietro when I was younger, about nine or ten, I think.

Yes, that I do remember, that feels right. Almost everything with Pietro feels right.

Lance is talking to someone now, himself perhaps? He's never been the most stable of individuals; he's got a hairpin temper, that's for sure. A few seconds later there's a smashing sound, like he's slammed or thrown something against the wall.

I shiver in my bed.

Then I hear a knocking on Lance's door, probably Freddy. The door opens, there's a silence, then it closes again, and I hear Freddy start going back down.

I can't do this. Not again. I can't lie alone in a dark, empty room that feels so strange. I can't sleep with a madman next-door. I can't do this.

I've got to go to him again.

I slip out of bed, trying not to make too much noise, and exit that dark, cold, remembered yet unfamiliar room. The room that's mine, and yet not mine.

I lock the door behind me and creep along the corridor, quiet as can be, until I reach my brother's room. Using my other key, the key he's shared with me, like I shared mine, I unlock his door and slip inside.

This is better, this is familiar; more of me is in Pietro's room than exists in the chamber set out for me. I know him, even if I don't know myself.

I smile at the posters of semi-clad women on the walls; I know he has a weakness for supermodels. There's also a poster of Michel Schumacher, the Formula 1 racing driver, one of Pietro's personal heroes.

The room is messy at the moment, his socks, shoes, jumpers, T-shirts, pants and undergarments spread everywhere, yet that is his habit. His bedroom often switches from horrendously messy to fanatically clean depending on his mercurial mood.

I know this well. I know him. I know he's safe.

I take out a pile of blankets from his bottom draw and, as I have done these past three nights, spread them out on the floor for me to sleep on.

Yes, I've been doing this a lot recently. At first I thought my room was all right, at first it seemed good, but the longer I spent in it, the more I saw of it, the less I liked. The more it felt like I was living in a stranger's room.

Three nights ago, I could no longer bear it. I crept over to Pietro's room and asked if I could sleep with him. Share his bed.

At first he seemed confused, even a little frightened, but he accepted me.

So I spent the night in my brother's bed, knowing that I was safe.

It had been over ten years since I had done that.

Yes, when we were little father used to... used to... go away for a while, though he would always bring back presents. But it was dark, and we were afraid, so Pie-Pie and me used to snuggle up against each other at night, knowing that each would protect the other.

That's right, that's true. It feels truer than any other memory I have, and it's the one I keep going back to, that memory of me and my brother, safety and security.

That morning he was up and out of bed, kicking me out, telling me he wanted to get dressed alone. It was OK, I guess, but I felt... betrayed.

I went to him again, the next night, still needing his hugs, his safety. This time, though, he told me he wanted me to sleep on the floor, if I had to sleep in his room at all.

I don't understand. Doesn't he want me? What am I doing wrong? It's not as if we're doing anything... you know... nasty, just holding each other, keeping each other warm and safe.

Yet he acts like there's this big secret, this big guilt, he barely looks me in the face any more. And he's nervy, has been since I moved in, like all the others he acts as if one wrong word could set me off. I don't understand, isn't he my brother? Doesn't he know I love him?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound the front door, and staggering footsteps. Toad, it must be Toad. He comes upstairs, and I hear him vomit. The sound of him, the thought of him, sometimes it makes me want to vomit too. Lance has muttered something about drink and Toad. I'm not sure, but I wouldn't put it past him.

He goes back downstairs for a bit. For a while I think that'll be it, he'll go out again, but no such luck.

Back upstairs he stumbles, and follows his usual routine, moving down the hallway until he reaches my door, where he stops.

He's trying to listen to me, I know, listening to me sleep.

It makes me feel ill.

He's the one that scares me the most, and on so many levels. All the others - Lance, Freddy, even Pietro - they keep their distance, but Todd...

I'm not used to it. I'm afraid of what he'll do, afraid of what he wants. I'm afraid he'll come too close to me.

If I let him too close to me, he'll hurt me.

That's another reason I moved to Pie-Pie's room, to escape him, to run from that sneaking, slimy stalker. 

The nightmare on the other side of my door.

The funny thing is... sometimes... I feel like I want to let him in, want to trust him, but I can't. Why can't I let people get close to me?

Why am I so scared?

Eventually he moves on, coming to Pietro's door. I wonder if he knows I'm here. I try to still my breathing, but I can't. Besides, he's more patient than he looks, he'll listen until I have no air left in my lungs, until I'm forced to gasp for oxygen. Then he'll hear me.

Whether he hears me or not, he moves on soon enough, and I try to calm down again, try to let sleep claim me. Yet I know it will be of no use, I can't sleep without knowing Pietro's here, watching over me.

Eventually he comes, though. I hear his fast, light footsteps running towards the house; hear the front door open and close, hear him come upstairs.

He unlocks the door, opens it slowly, and even in the dim moonlight I know that he can see me. If he has any expression on his face I don't see it, I only hear him come in, closing and locking the door behind him. He moves behind me and undresses, stripping naked with such speed that I hear the static crackle on his clothes. Then he jumps into bed, not sparing me a word, a glance. It's as if I'm not even here, as if I'm a shadow, a ghost, a memory.

But he's here with me, which is what matters. He's here for me, even if I can't be there for him. With this in mind, feeling safe once again, I finally fall asleep.

Sometime later, I don't know when, I wake up again. He's leaving, my brother is leaving.

I hear him slip out of bed, slip on his pants. He tears the duvet and sheets off his bed and exits the room. He doesn't even bother closing the door behind him. Now anyone could slip in, even Toad.

Downstairs Freddy turns up the TV.

He did this on the other two nights too. He always abandons me. Why? I love him; he was always so nice to me, like our father. Now... now he's so distant, cold, he almost seems frightened of me. It's as if... as if he hates me.

My own brother can't hate me, can he?

Am I such a bad sister as that?

Why am I so frightened? Why is everything so confusing? Why is nothing real?

Why am I alone?

These question spin around inside my head, and they will do for many hours, until weariness overcomes fear and I sleep again. This is the pattern of my night, of the last three nights. This is my habit.

I'm a creature of habit, not half as strong as people think.


	4. Shard 4: Pietro

Shard 4: Pietro

I'm buzzing, flying, hotwired; I've put back enough Joe to keep me bouncing off the walls for the rest of the year. Well, that's how it feels now, anyway.

So, what I wanna know is, if I'm so fried on caffeine, why am I so wrecked?

I was at this little place, Café Atlanta, for almost five hours, drinking until I thought I'd explode. It doesn't help though.

Guess there are some barriers I just can't push through.

Never thought I'd say that. I mean, I never felt like this before, you know; never felt helpless. See, I always knew that if I got in a hot situation, I could just skedaddle outta there, no problemo. I just run, leaving the slowpokes eating my dust.

But there are things you just can't run from. Like family. Like home.

Funny phrase that, running away from home. I did it once, when I was a kid. 

Can't even remember why, but I didn't get far. Dad found me, said I couldn't run, 'cos there weren't no place I could run too. I'm his blood, see, homo-superior, I'll inherit the earth. It's all my home, and all Homo-Superior is my family.

I can't run, I can't hide.

I gotta come home sometime.

For me that time's about two a.m. I don't make a fuss as I go in - don't wanna draw too much attention to myself, for once. Freddy's sleeping on the couch, the TV turned on and lighting up the room. I don't talk to him. It's not as if he'd give any stimulating conversation - not unless it involves food, at any rate.

For a moment I'm tempted to watch the box, stay awake that way, but it won't work. I'm too tired. There's only one place I can sleep, the place I can't stand.

I run up the stairs, straight into my room. Do it quickly and it's over sooner, right? No need to draw it out.

The Creep and the Caveman are probably already in bed. Lance comes home straight after work, generally, and I can smell Todd.

I pause at the door to my room for a second, literally a second, but to me it's an eternity. I want to run, pelt back downstairs, out of that door, outta this stinking house and away from everything.

But I can't escape them, not my family. I've tried, and they follow me.

They always follow me.

So I go in, turn the key, open that fucking door and go into my room.

She's there.

Fuck, I'm screwed. I'm so, so, so screwed.

It all comes up again, my stomach dances, my legs feel week, my heart beats like it's gonna explode. I hate this, hate it so much, but I can't escape it.

I've tried fighting this moment with coffee, but you know, with all the energy I use, I gotta sleep sometime. Gotta have my forty winks, so I gotta come back unless I wanna spend some time out on the street. And it'll be a cold day in hell before I descend to that.

Yeah, there's always a motel or something, but I'm kinda skint at the moment. Dad isn't funding us much right now, I can't get the cash from Lance, and I flat out refuse to work at some crummy burger bar. Pietro Maximoff, selling greasy fast food? Yeah right! Do you *know* how long it takes to get this hair right?

Anyway, I wouldn't be able to boost myself up on Joe if not for some fast handwork. I always sit near the cash register then, soon as the barman turns to fill up a cup, I snatch the money out of the drawer, faster than you can blink. So I guess the coffee kinda pays for itself.

Problem is, by the end of the day the barmen tend to work out the scam, or part of it, so I can't go to the same café. So I have to move around. Yeah, that's me, always moving around.

Pietro Maximoff, a mover in every sense.

Can't escape from this, though.

She's awake; I see her eyes looking at me from beneath her lashes.

I don't meet their gaze. How can I? I make sure her back's to me before I undress, zip into bed ASAP. I tend to sleep naked, why bother with pyjamas? Besides, it doesn't to any harm to advertise; you never know when you might meet a sweet chick.

No, no, don't think that! Not my sister! Nuh uh! No connection there, not no way, no how, not even within the realms of possibility. I mean... at the risk of sounding girlish, eeew!

I guess it's an easy assumption to make, though, you know, two siblings sneaking about, me sleeping naked, feelings of guilt... heh, perhaps in some ways it isn't that far off the mark.

Shit, what have I got myself into?

I don't understand why she's doing this. She's the strong one, the one with the raw power, not me. She's the one who could whip my ass, and I don't let that go lightly. I hate to lose, hate to be second best. Yet she's been coming to my room, to my frickin' bed even, for the past three days! I mean, she's cured of all that haunted past shit, she isn't angry at me or dad anymore, is she? Perhaps this is some form of torture for her; perhaps she likes making me feel this way. I wouldn't put it past her.

How do I feel? Kinda hard to describe.

It should be simple, you know, a sister going to her brother for comfort. It's the kind of thing we did when we were five, kinda an unspoken love thing, a trust, like we knew we'd protect each other.

But that was over a decade ago, and love's changed, trust's gone. Or it has for me, anyway.

She's still got it, though, still acts like I'm her twin bro'. How can she? I betrayed her, I abandoned her, and she snuggles up to me each fucking night as if none of it's happened. As if we're still the same two toddlers, huddling against each other in the night 'cos we miss our dad.

Shit, this is so fucked up.

I'm in bed now, lying between warm covers. I should be comfortable, but I'm stifling, pressed in by the air. I want to tear of the covers, let myself free, but Wanda's there. How's she gonna take to seeing me, stark butt naked on the bed? What's that gonna tell her?

Perhaps I should start to wear pyjamas.

No, no, fuck it, I won't go changing myself just because she's so fucking messed up. I ain't gonna change who I am. No one's gonna do that to me.

Yeah, I hate her like that, hate her for holding me. I remember, three nights ago, when this started, when she let herself in here, slipped into my bed and asked me to hold her... I felt so trapped. I still feel trapped.

I'm a free spirit, right? No matter what, I'm free. I don't like connections, not physical, not mental, and not spiritual, if you believe that crap. I don't have one home, I don't have a friend, I just got my family, 'cos blood's thicker than water, and I can't escape what's running in my veins.

All I've got holding me is my father, and he just wants obedience. And I can give that - give buckets full of it.

But Wanda... she wants something else... and I don't know if I can give it anymore.

So yeah, I hate her for holding onto me so tight, for trapping me, for making me try to give something I can't. And, fuck it, I love her too! You know? She's my sister, my little sister, and she's asking me to give her... 

I don't know... something I don't know that I can still give. Something I'm not sure I want to give.

It's funny. Once, I thought Magneto would watch over me. I'd do what Magneto wanted, no problemo.

Now it's all changed, now Wanda's wanting me to protect her, and thinks our 

Dad will do the same, but what if he don't? What if he wants to dump her again? Can I protect her? Should I? Would Dad dump me? It's all so complex.

I hate being responsible for anything.

Yeah, and here I am, the leader of the Brotherhood. But that isn't about responsibility, that's about who's best for the job. And that's sure as hell me. But it seems like I'm the one looking after my little sister again, too. 

Whether I like it or not.

But who else can look after her, if that's what's needed? Freddy? That fat slob can't see beyond the edge of the TV screen or outside a food package.

Lance? Hmm, Lance Alvers, monosyllable, mono-thought, Lance. Yeah, keep banging the rocks together, Lance, maybe they'll spark of a couple of your brain cells, if you've got that many. Face it; the guy's as stable as a volcano and half as smart.

Toad? That slug's the one Wanda should be protected *from!* I fucking swear if that useless sack of slime touches her I'll rip his fucking throat out. Freak. Sooner we're rid of that useless puss bag the better.

Oh yeah, I'm not that fond of my fellow team-mates. But then, I don't make connections, see? Don't like to hold myself down.

So what about the other team, the X-men? Could Wanda...

No, don't be idiotic Pietro, it's gotta be you, you're the only one... the only one... the only one...

Funny, I must have dropped off, but I'm awake now and with a familiar feeling beneath my legs. It's happened again. I ain't done it since Elementary School, before Wanda left, but I've been doing it for the last three nights. It was a minor miracle that she didn't find out on the first night, when we shared the bed.

I get up quickly; grab the sheets, put on some underwear. Hopefully I haven't woken Wanda. I rush out, still carrying the sheets, trying not to touch the wet spot.

Yeah, I've wet my bed.

Why? I don't know. Maybe it's the worry, the pressure, the fear, the guilt - everything.

I've kept most of this hidden from everyone; I don't want it to be let out that I'm a wimp. Because I'm not! I'm as strong as the next guy! I just... can't always deal, you know?

I run downstairs, towards the washing machine, stuff the sodden sheet in, add detergent, and press go, praying all the time that no one hears me.

A few seconds later the blare of the TV gets louder too. I spin round and see that it's Freddy. He's awake again. He's turned up the TV to hide the sound of the washing machine. Why? I don't know... it's not as if we're friends or anything but...

I nearly say it, those two, tiny words that'd make all the difference between leader and follower. I nearly say "thank you". But I don't.

I'm in charge here, he don't have no right to be prying in my affairs and I've got a right to my privacy.

Pietro Maximoff don't need no help or favours from no one.

I wonder if he'll blab, but I know he won't. I don't know how... I just... know.

When the washing's done I'll take the sheet outside, run around with it for a bit to dry it out in the night air. Meanwhile, I've got some time to waste.

I take a seat by the TV; curl up in it, trying to preserve body heat.

So, this is what it's come to, me sitting in front of the box, practically naked, with Freddy, afraid that people might discover how weak I really am, how guilty I really am.

Yeah, I'm guilty; guess part of me deserves this. Maybe. I mean... I don't know... what am I supposed to do? Tell her it's all a lie? Make her strong with the truth? Let her know that I abandoned her, that dad abandoned her? 

Yeah, then he'd hate me, Todd would hate me (like I care) and Wanda would hate me.

There's another thing Wanda can thank me for, Todd. I practically encouraged him, you know, telling him to hide things like I was. Now I just want to let it all spill out.

That way I'd be free but... I don't know... maybe I don't wanna be free. 

I... I don't want to fail her again, I want to make up for it, you know. I wanna make her safe. But I can't, it's not what I do. I run from things, I don't face them, let alone face them for other people.

I don't understand anything anymore. I'm lost, trapped, pulled in a thousand directions and held by a thousand chains. I don't know which way to run and I don't think running would help.

Guilt, hate, love, anger, fear - it's all here. And I can't show any of it, because I'm the leader now. All I want to do is to be free, to sleep.

And all because of my little sister Wa-Wa.

Analyse all that shit, if you can.


	5. Shard 5: Freddy

Shard 5: Freddy.

We've got a new TV. Got it last month. Bought it straight outta Lance's pay. 

It's second-hand, of course, but pretty good. The old one got broken, smashed. Lots'a things get broken here.

Things always break around me. Stuff, I mean. People too, sometimes.

When I was a kid, I remember breakin' my mom's mirror by accident. I remember how it looked, all smashed and stuff, all the little bits reflecting something different. Weird that, when you think about it, the way it used to be this whole image, but when it's smashed each little bit looks different.

I feel like that sometimes, like I'm looking at a broken mirror. Not literally - that'd be confusing, 'cos in mirrors left and right is the other way round and, you know? That'd be annoying. Heh.

But yeah, things 'round here seem that way, sometimes.

And I'm the only one who sees it, see? 'Cos I take time, I watch things, think about them, I'm like... a piece of furniture, like the couch, or the TV, or... like a... like a mirror too. Yeah, 'cos no one sees me, not really, they just see themselves.

Look at me, all ph... phili... philosyp... thoughtful.

But all the others, they're too busy lookin' after their own... you know... piece of mirror... their... um... shard. Yeah, their shard.

They don't see the whole picture, not like me.

Speakin' of pictures, this one's crap. The TV, I mean, it's all fritzy at the moment. But it's kinda grey and cloudy outside, so maybe that's messin' with the... you know... the reception.

Wanda went to bed an hour ago, she always goes at nine, it's a habit she has. Wanda's been gettin' a lot of habits lately.

I hear the door. It's Lance. I get on with Lance; he's kinda cool, you know? 

Like me - not too smart, but down to earth.

Uh, did I just make a joke?

Anyway, Lance is pretty cool, he loses his temper sometimes, just like me, but he's got a lot on his mind, lotta responsibility. He shouldn't have, but he takes it on, you know? I mean, he's not even the leader no more, that's Pietro, but *he* ain't gonna move his butt, and he ain't practical enough anyways. So Lance gets most of the shit - working, sorting things out, stuff like that.

He's pretty hassled when he comes in, goes to his room pretty soon. I make some food for him and take it up to him. When I get to the top of the stairs I hear Lance talking, it sounds like he's talking to himself, but I know better.

Its Kitty again, he's talkin' to her on the phone, his cell.

Yeah, I know about that, I hear him say her name, see? And it don't take no genius to know that, if he ain't usin' the phone downstairs he must be usin' a cell-phone.

I think it's pretty bad for him, mopin' over Kitty, 'cos she ain't gonna be coming back to him. It's over, I can see it. So can anyone else, 'cept Lance.

Ouch! She's pushed him away again, he must've lost his temper 'cos I hear the phone smash. I knock on the door then, and he lets me in. I give him the food and pat him on the shoulder, try to give him some... I dunno, some comfort I guess. But I'm not too good at that, not good at being gentle.

I'd like to say something you know? But Lance... he's real private, more than anyone else, and real proud too. He'd just get angry if I let on I'd heard anything, so I stay quiet. That's what I'm good at, stayin' quiet.

And Lance is strong, like a wall, but he ain't perfect; there are cracks, you know? And soon he's gonna break if things don't change, I can see it comin'.

So I'm headin' back downstairs, but I hear somethin' else, someone movin' up there. It don't sound like Lance, so it gotta be Wanda.

I don't get on that well with her. I mean, I don't have a problem with her or nothing, she's all right. But I don't... connect at all, you know? To be honest, I don't reckon she connects with anyone, not even herself. She's confused all the time, I mean... I dunno, I can't put it into words.

She knows it's not right, though, knows something's wrong. She's been movin' from her room lately, 'cos she don't feel right there, don't feel safe. So she's been goin' to Pietro for comfort, 'cos he's the only thing that feels real to her at the moment.

Yeah, I know a bit about that, I figure it out, you know? She comes down here for some cocoa at night, just sits there, thinking, a strange look on her face.

I don't ask what's wrong, but I can guess. I'd be lying if I said I cared for her, lying if I said I trusted her. She's kinda wild. I feel sorry for her and all, but she's like her brother - unpredictable. We don't know what she's gonna do next, and after how mad she was before...

Anyway, there ain't no reason to worry over it. Things'll sort themselves out. So I go back to the couch and watch a bit more TV. It's just a stupid quiz show, and I can't answer none of the questions neither, but the loser gets dumped in a load of goo, so it's pretty good.

It's just about midnight when the front door opens again; this time it's Todd. He's in a bad way, covered in cuts and stuff, and his leg looks really bad. Poor Todd, he gets beaten up worse than anyone, but he's so used to it he barely whinges any more. I guess I'm lucky, most things just bounce straight off me, so I don't need no real medical stuff. The other guys ain't so lucky though, you should see some of the shit they get hit with.

Todd asks where Pietro is, and I tell him he's gone to some café again, to plug up on coffee. I ask what happened to his leg, he says that Summers got him again, took most of the money he picked. I grab the First Aid kit and, with Todd's help, bandage up the leg. It ain't too bad, probably just a sprain, and Todd heals quickly; all mutants do.

Anyhow, he goes back upstairs to do his thing while I cook somethin' up for him to eat. Same thing I made for Lance - cheese, toast and beans. I can make better stuff, but we don't have much in. Still, if Todd's off doing his thing in the bathroom then we might get a bit more cash tomorrow.

I like Todd, he's kinda fun. He's a wimp, but he tries to be tough, you know? And he gets so much shit... well; he kinda has a right to be a bit annoying, 'cos he's the most gentlest person here. He's a real friend, too. He won't turn his back on you, like Lance, or stab you in the back, like Pietro. So he's kinda cool.

He comes back down with the cards (which he's washed, luckily), and I hide them away in an old cereal packet, at the back of the cupboard. Then I give him his food, which he gulps up fast as anything. He goes on about his day, 'cos his chop's as big as it looks. Yeah, Todd's a big mouth, likes to boast, but he's more sensible than he seems, sometimes. He hasn't told Lance or anyone what he's doing, which I guess must be hard for him, 'cos he gets so much disrespect and he don't deserve it, not really.

Anyhow, soon as he finishes up eatin' he goes upstairs, says he's headin' to bed, but I don't reckon he is. He's probably gonna hang outside Wanda's room for a bit, cos he really likes her, even if she don't know it. It's sad; he loves her so much that it scares her. If he backed away, took it easier I think he'd do better, you know?

But who the hell am I to be blabbing' about that? With my experience with Jean? Yeah, so much for the gentle touch.

The thing with Wanda is freaking us all out though. I think he's got the wrong idea about her and Pietro, you know? He's been looking at Pietro very oddly recently, but I haven't told him otherwise, 'cos I know that Wanda and Pietro don't like to be seen as weak neither. They wouldn't be too happy if they found out I'd been blabbing about them.

I watch some more late night TV for a bit, some old film, bit of a romance, real cute but not that interestin'. I feel my eye lids drooping.

I wake up at about quarter to three, 'cos there's this program I like to watch. It's this serialised adult cartoon, pretty strange but really cool. I always try to catch it, and I used to set up an alarm clock specially so that, if I fell asleep, I'd still get to see it. Now though I've got so used to wakin' up to watching it I just... you know... wake up automatically. 

It's in my sleepin' patterns or something.

So, I watch the cartoon for a bit, and then I hear something upstairs. 

There's a whooshing sound. It's Pietro.

He musta come back from his caffeine binge when I was asleep; he's real sneaky like that. He's almost naked, just got some underwear on, and he's got some sheets in his arms.

He's wet himself again.

I found that out a while ago, as I'm usually down here at night, watchin' my program, like I said. So I've seen him come down here before, seen him stuff the sheet in the washing machine and... well, I put two and two together. 

I'm smart enough to do that, you know.

I reckon it's 'cos of his sister, he's gettin' mighty stressed over her, same as she is over him.

He looks scared of course, 'cos he knows that if someone finds out then they could embarrass the hell outta him. That's the thing with Pietro, he hates feeling helpless, or weak, hates being laughed at as much as me. But we're still very different, and we don't like each other at all. He's a sneaky cowered, so handsome, popular, fast, but weak. One punch knocks his lights out, he can't take pain. He's just my... you know... opposite.

He's as arrogant as fuck too, likes to hurt people worse than me, all full of big words, and for a man who sees the world in slow motion, he don't pay much attention to other people's feelin's.

Yeah, outta all the Brotherhood, he's the one I like the least. And now he's weak, he's mine. I mean, he's always been too fast for me to pound before, but now... now I can just spill the beans, can just tell everyone our boss wets his bed. Good revenge, huh?

I lean forward and turn up the box, so that it hides the sound of the washing, that way no one will hear what's happening, no one will have a clue what Pietro's doing.

Yeah, maybe I should let spill, maybe it would be good revenge, but it ain't my gig, you know? When I take it out on Pietro, it'll be my way, with fists, not with words and shit. 'Cos as much as punches hurt, laugher is worse.

He don't say thanks, of course. Didn't expect him too, it ain't his way. But for a moment... I dunno, maybe there's something in his eyes.

But it's gone quickly, like everything, and he goes over to the other seat, curls up in it and watches the TV. It's as if he's pretendin' I ain't here.

Which is cool by me.

So I watch the rest of my cartoon, and when it's over I glance back over to Pietro, see what he's doing.

He's asleep.

It's weird, curled up like that on the chair, just the TV light on his skin... he looks so... you know... young. Vulnerable.

Guess that's true of us all, really. Guess that's what the 'hood's all about. A group of kids, angry, confused, heartbroken, scared... lonely... and all tryin' to be adults.

That's the thing, I reckon, it's about how scared we all are, how little we trust each other. See, when you don't trust someone, when you're scared, you don't share things. You don't tell each other things.

So you're alone, keeping everything inside where it kinda... you know... festers. We're like that broken mirror, each piece afraid to tell the others what it sees, so our image is like... wrecked.

And we gotta patch it up soon, or the cracks will only get wider until the mirror breaks, see?

But I guess I'll always be here, watchin' the image, watching the others move around me, and I'll always be silent. 'Cos that's what I am, the unmovable Blob.

But hell, that's too much thinkin' for one night.

I get up and move away, not tryin' to keep quiet. That way Pietro will wake up and finish his thing with the washing.

Meanwhile, I'm off to bed, like normal, it's time I got to sleep.

'Cos ain't nothing special happening round here tonight.

Goodnight.


End file.
